


Vessels of Flame

by Letterblade



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: BDSM, Dom/sub, Headspace, M/M, Orgasm Control, Power Exchange, Sex Magic, Slightly Sketchy Power Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-06
Updated: 2013-08-06
Packaged: 2017-12-22 15:59:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/915164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Letterblade/pseuds/Letterblade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While training Alibaba in magic, before the coup in Balbadd, Sinbad offers to teach him some more arcane methods of raising magoi. Porn ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vessels of Flame

**Author's Note:**

> It's probably a good thing most people can't communicate freely with their djinns, really. Amon is judging them so hard right now.

"...and of course there are other techniques to raise or concentrate one's magoi outside of battle."

Alibaba leaned on a pillar, slowly sucking air and weak-kneed with exhaustion, right hand slippery with sweat from gripping the hilt of his knife so hard it hurt as he tried, again and again, for his Djinn Equip. The sun was in his eyes, he had to squint to see Sinbad as anything more than a broad dark outline, looming. Their shadows were long, the day had been longer, and it took him a moment to answer. "Like what? I want to know everything, Sinbad, please."

"You know the most important parts..." He couldn't quite see Sinbad's face, not with the sun behind him, but his voice seemed a little different. Richer. Almost teasing. "If you want to learn more about other ways to raise magoi, you should rest first. Have some dinner. Wouldn't do to try to learn when you're this worn out."

"I can keep going--"

Sinbad's broad, firm hand fell on his shoulder, and for a moment something in his belly fluttered.

"Dinner, Alibaba," the King proclaimed, with mirth.

* * *

Dinner was light and delicious, and Sinbad spent most of it talking, so smoothly that Alibaba wasn't quite sure how he managed to make food disappear at the same time. The flow of magoi through the body, how it speeds up when one is excited. How joy and personal connections can concentrate it. Alibaba soaked it up like a sponge, somehow managed to eat too--he was hungry, he couldn't deny that, but he'd spent years of his life hungry, he'd hardly notice. Far hungrier for knowledge. The sheath of his knife seemed very warm through his clothes--always close, always sharing power.

Dinner ended with elegant little clusters of sweet grapes, and Sinbad popped the last one into his mouth and said, offhand, as if this was something he'd expected Alibaba to have figured out earlier, "I'm talking about sex magic."

Alibaba gulped air, perhaps squawked even if he would never admit it, felt heat rush to his face. Sinbad had been kind, he thought distantly, he'd waited until after he'd swallowed. God, why did he always _do_ this, why did he flail and freeze and forget what words were when something caught him by surprise-- _why was Sinbad talking about sex magic_ , that was also a major concern--

"...sex...magic?" he croaked.

Not the most inspiring words he'd ever managed. He must've been getting even redder. Sinbad just smiled, calm, clearly he'd expected him to freeze like this and that made it _worse_ \--

"Naturally." He set the bare stem of grapes aside and waved a hand, expansive. "Only if you want to, of course. I have no wish to pressure you."

Alibaba didn't entirely realize that he'd sprung to his feet until he found himself planting his heels on the marbled floor. "I--King Sinbad, I have three days to save my _country_ , I can't be wasting my time with--with--"

The serious edge was back in Sinbad's face. "It is true that I have no wish to pressure you, Prince Alibaba, but I can only answer that with the truth. You _will_ wake up tomorrow more powerful, with a sizable reserve of magoi. I would not call it a waste of an evening when you're anticipating a major battle, I've done it myself to that end many times."

Alibaba huffed, quavered. Speaking with Sinbad was like dueling with a swordsman so skilled that he didn't even realize the feint until he stepped sideways into a trap--that, _that_ he would love lessons in, but how could you teach such an indescribable thing? But he was _Sinbad_ , he was amazing, he could hardly be upset.

Sinbad rolled to his feet, offering a hand. "I only wish to give you an opportunity, but it was not meant to be purely strategic. You have three days to gather your power, after all. If you do this out of simple need, with neither curiosity nor pleasure in your heart, it has a far greater chance of failing."

"I'm curious!" Alibaba protested hotly, and then felt his cheeks burn as he realized what he'd admitted. He barely even saw Sinbad move, but the King was abruptly closer, his offered hand settling lightly on his shoulder. His touch felt electric, Alibaba jolted, didn't pull away, felt a shiver of raw excitement run down his spine.

"And the other thing?"

"If you--if you just wanted to--seduce me--" Alibaba sputtered.

"You'll note that there was no strong wine with dinner," Sinbad commented, almost offhanded, thumb smoothing over his collarbone. "If I wished to seduce you, believe me, I would've found the best Balbadd has to offer. But magic of this sort is best done sober."

Alibaba wavered, quashed the wild little figment of grief that Sinbad _hadn't_ wished to seduce him, what if he had, how wonderful would that be--but how could this possibly be relevant, who would he even _do_ it with once he learned how, if he wanted whatever magical boost it might provide, if not Sinbad himself--

The King of Sindria had both his hands on his shoulders, framing him. He was close, he smelled of salt and spices, he seemed very warm. It was near sunset, his hair glinted strange and wonderful colors, and Alibaba's breath caught in his throat. He couldn't possibly--want this? Want Sinbad's hands on him, on his body?

"Curious?" Sinbad asked with a smile, and Alibaba's gut felt like butterflies. Of _course_ he was curious--of course he wanted it, who was he trying to fool, Sinbad made him watery in the knees nearly every time he opened his mouth. Even if it was some lesson, some formalized semblance of intimacy, to be close to him like that--

"Let's do it!" Alibaba blurted, fierce with sudden determination, and Sinbad's answering smile was warm and welcoming.

* * *

Alibaba had expected--what? Sitting naked in some magical circle? Chanting as they performed some strange act? He wasn't entirely sure, but nothing had prepared him for Sinbad settling him into that absurdly luxurious hotel bed and simply--seducing him. Little touches. Carding hands through his hair, caressing his shoulders, rubbing the nape of his neck. Slowly, inexorably sensual. Alibaba's breath came shallow, his body felt heated. He wasn't a _virgin_ , certainly, but it had never been like this during those few strange, awkward times with prostitutes, the ones who didn't accept his offer of a nice tip for an easy time chatting--he'd never been seduced this thoroughly before, and certainly never by somebody like _Sinbad_ , somebody he'd practically hero-worshipped even before he suddenly appeared in his life, solid and real and every bit as imposing as the stories--

"Are we," Alibaba ventured after a time, after Sinbad had peeled a layer off him and his breath stopped hitching every time his fingers so much as grazed him. Nervous, star-struck, determined. "Is this...part of it?" Sinbad sprawled, serenely comfortable, and Alibaba knelt close, strangely aware of the skin on his bare arms, unsure whether he should press closer or lie down or something else entirely.

"Of course." A smile tugged at Sinbad's lips. "It doesn't work very well unless you're relaxed. And receptive."

"Receptive...?"

One of Sinbad's hands, large and warm and callused, cupping his cheek. His thumb very lightly tracing his lips. Alibaba felt his lips parting as though they had a will of their own, his eyes wide, his cheeks warm under Sinbad's hand.

"Mm. Aware of sensation, responding to sensation. You know how to listen to your body's instincts for movement--I know how the royal fencing of Balbadd is taught. For this, you need to be aware of what your body is _feeling_ , what its instincts for pleasure are. As I'm teaching you, I'm going to be controlling those feelings and instincts quite a bit, so that you'll feel what you need to feel to work this magic."

Sinbad's face was very close, his breath warm. Butterflies in his gut. "How can you...control things like that?' Alibaba murmured, bewildered. Sinbad's other hand splayed in the small of his back. Alibaba faltered, set a hand on his sleeve.

"Easily." Sinbad's voice was low, almost purring. "You want to kiss me, don't you?"

Alibaba made a faint, incoherent noise, because he _did_ , oh he did, so badly he almost shook, but he wasn't sure what he should or shouldn't do so he had barely dared to move--and then Sinbad slid his thumb out of the way and kissed him, slow and exploratory, and he keened softly into his mouth and kissed back, heedless, eager.

By the time the kiss was finished, Sinbad had loosened his belt, and there was hot metal pressing against his hand--the hilt of his dagger. Sinbad was holding it in a fold of fabric, not touching it directly, and if he hadn't been a little giddy from the kiss, he would have wondered at that odd courtesy, but instead he just blinked at him.

"Don't let go of it. It's a little inconvenient when your vessel isn't wearable, but if you're working to raise and retain magoi, you'll want to be in contact with it always."

"...ah." Right, this was magic. Sensible to keep the vessel close, of course. Silly of him, to want it to be something else.

Sinbad studied him for a moment, and then slid an arm around to pull him close and murmur, "I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't want to, you know. The fact that it's magic doesn't negate that. Don't think you're so undesirable."

Alibaba's gut fluttered, he felt his heart pounding in his ears, he might have made some strange little noise of yearning and hope. Just the idea that Sinbad would want _him_ , even a little--

"--o-oh," was about all he managed, but Sinbad just slid his hands under his tunic, unruffled.

* * *

"What you will be doing tonight is perhaps the simplest form of magoi manipulation through sex. Though you are working at a disadvantage. A man's pleasure, by its nature, is transient, and expels what he has raised. Concentrating and retaining magoi through sexual excitement is simple in theory, and still the easiest place to start even for a man, but it will probably be a little different from what you've done in the past."

"What...do I do?"

He was naked. He was naked under Sinbad, nothing left but his scarf and the sheathed knife clutched in one hand. Sinbad had lain him down with a few gentle nudges, managing his movements as easily as a master horseman turns his beast with a touch. Sinbad had lost his white wrap and little else, resplendent in his purple tunic. He could only guess that he'd been deemed relaxed enough, receptive enough. His body felt boneless, true, except for the warm weight of his hard cock between his legs. His heart was pounding.

"You feel. With practice, you'll be able to do this under your own will, moving and concentrating magoi within your body with a partner's help. Consider this a demonstration that takes place within your own body. Once you know what it feels like to do it, you'll be far better prepared to do it yourself." Sinbad traced fingertips along his forearm with a bit of a wry smile. "I wish Djinn Equips were as easy to induce by physical manipulation."

Alibaba couldn't help wishing so too. "So I lie here and you--do things to me?"

Sinbad's fingers wandered up his arm, his voice low and velvety even as he spoke of practicalities. "You will need to focus. You must know some basic physical meditations--you should absorb everything you experience, no matter how intense, and neither try to escape it nor lose yourself in it. You will be building a core of power. Do not let go of that. You will not climax until it is done."

Said so easily, but the order was absolute--yet strange. He certainly hadn't had much say in when his body had rushed over that delicious edge in the past. He felt his brow furrow at that, his flush deepening. "I don't--I don't know if I can--"

"I don't expect you to. I'm going to be controlling what you feel, physically restraining you if I need to. I only ask that you not fight me in that."

Alibaba drew in a breath, found his lower lip between his teeth, his face hot. He wasn't sure whether the thought was frightening, enticing, humiliating--of course Sinbad couldn't expect that of him, it was only fair, it was absurd to think he should be good at it right away, but of course he _wanted_ to be--

Sinbad carded fingers through his hair, tender. "I couldn't control myself that well when I was your age. It's no insult, Alibaba. And no burden." He paused, then asked, voice quiet and earnest, "Do you trust me?"

"Of course." For once, he didn't hesitate. Of course he did, Sinbad was incredible. "Yes. If you--if that's what we need to do, then--then do what you want with me."

"Then I am honored by your trust." Sinbad splayed one hand over his heart, lightly, smiled, warmly. His eyes were very bright. "I'm looking forward to it."

* * *

It seemed like an eternity before Sinbad so much as touched his cock. The rest of him, certainly. He may not have been a virgin, but he felt like one anew--discovering that his nipples were tender in more ways than a bad spot to be elbowed in a fight, that he writhed when Sinbad lightly ran his nails up the soft inside of his thigh, groaned when he massaged his feet. Not that it didn't stun him for a moment, that a _king_ would touch the lowest part of him, but Sinbad just smiled a fey smile, as if this was no debasement at all. As if the moans and shudders that Alibaba could hardly even control were small, delightful victories.

Sinbad _liked_ this, it was a slow and creeping and unavoidable realization, and it made Alibaba's heart leap, made him inch closer in the soft sheets and not try as hard to bite back his moans.

Yet still, still Sinbad did not touch his cock, not until every other bit of him was tingling and alive with sensation. He yearned, his cock twitched as jolts of pleasure ran through his body, he wanted to ask when it would be time, he wanted to plead for it, he flushed hot at how urgent that desire was--but what could he even gain from asking? Sinbad had a purpose, to tease things out like this. Sinbad was watching him closely, like every breath he drew had some meaning, he felt more than naked under his gaze, he must know how much he wanted more--

There was a brass jar beside the bed, elegantly tooled. Alibaba hadn't given it much thought until Sinbad reached for it, set the lid aside with a tinkle, dripped what seemed to be scented oil on his hand. He panted for air, watched him wide-eyed, unsure what it meant. Still unsure as Sinbad's dry hand found his sensitized nipples again, caressed his chest.

And his oil-slick hand closed lightly over the head of his cock, warm and slippery, his fingers delicately teasing the most sensitive spots, and Alibaba could not stop his long, ragged keen of desire, nor his hips from bucking up towards Sinbad's hand. His gaze was almost overwhelming for a moment, Alibaba quailed and closed his eyes--he had to focus, he couldn't forget what he was meant to do, his body felt hot and trembling and very alive, and maybe that was it, maybe that was the power he was meant to feel--

Sinbad began to stroke him, eventually--it couldn't even have been that long, but it felt like forever. Long and slow and exquisitely skilled, his thumb gently teasing the tender slit at the tip. Alibaba gathered a fistful of sheets in his free hand, felt silk smooth and cool against his heated palm, wondered if it was Sinbad's tunic instead. He screwed his eyes shut. His body felt mad with lust but he had to focus. Even just Sinbad's hand felt so good--he couldn't hold back his moans, he writhed, control fraying, he was going to--

The hand on his cock disappeared. Strong slick fingers closed in a gentle but firm grip around the root of his balls, an infinitesimal tug, holding him back.

"No, Alibaba. Not yet."

He whimpered, fought for air. His belly burned, he couldn't tell whether from magoi or the ache of delayed orgasm. He wanted to, he wanted to--

Sinbad took his chin in his other hand, casually turning his head so that he couldn't escape his gaze. His eyes flew open in surprise. The hilt of his dagger was hot against his palm, he had promised not to fight him--

"S-sorry--"

"No need." Sinbad's voice was soft, absolute. "I'm not going to let you come before it's done. That's under my control. You're doing fine."

* * *

Three times. Three times Sinbad had pulled him back, using nothing but those skilled hands, molding him like ever-more aching and writhing clay into a state of blind need. He would leave his cock untouched for a few moments to pull him back from the edge, play with the rest of him to keep him there, never letting that keen desire fade. Roll and pinch his nipples until he gasped and arched his hips into empty air, until he pawed at Sinbad's arm to try to get _more_ \--

Sinbad gently wrapped his hands around his wrists and guided them. Placed both his hands on the dagger's hilt, arms laid above his head. "Hold onto it. Focus. Don't lose contact with your vessel."

 _Both_ hands. He keened as those strong fingers trailed back to his nipple, but--he was all but bound. He would do this magic, he was utterly determined, he would do it right. Even if that meant leaving his hands in invisible chains, his body laid out entirely under Sinbad's control. Strong hands sliding down his thighs, nudging his legs apart, and he had promised not to fight him, so all he could do was spread himself as Sinbad shifted to kneel between his legs. He felt like his own flesh was beyond the reach of his will, claimed in the King's dominion, presented with his thighs splayed wide, given over to him.

But he had to focus. Heat and power deep inside him. Even Sinbad couldn't control that, not directly. He couldn't let that go, he closed his eyes and concentrated--

\--and warm, wet, infinitely soft pleasure bathed his aching cock, sudden and sweet, and his eyes flew wide with sudden shock and a cry that he could not contain. His toes curled in the sheets, he could not help writhing, could not help craning his hips into it, desperate for more--but familiar hands pressed down on his thighs, pinning him, controlling the pleasure he felt to the inch, and it was too much, it was too much, he had to come, he had to move, he had to do _something_ \--

"Absorb it," Sinbad murmured, pulling back for a moment, and his breath was hot on the tender head of his cock, and Alibaba picked his head up for a moment with a strangled sort of noise and the world turned upside-down because _Sinbad_ , the high king of the bloody seven seas himself, was nuzzling his cock. "Accept it. Whatever I do to you."

Alibaba swallowed hard, whimpered, let his head fall back to the mattress, tried to breathe. Tangled his fingers together around the hot hilt of his knife, whimpered as Sinbad smoothed his hand down his thigh, breathe, breathe. He felt mad and giddy with desire, he could hear his blood pounding in his ears, he was far too warm--Sinbad lowered his head again, and Alibaba keened, struggling to draw deep slow breaths, hold on to some sense of sanity. His skill with lips and tongue was just as maddeningly supreme as his skill with his hand, he could swallow him to the root, pull back away to delicately tease...

"Please," Alibaba whispered, so soft he almost didn't realize he'd given it voice. Sinbad didn't even answer, just smoothed his thumb down his hip, hummed softly--the vibration made him gasp. He could beg in earnest and it wouldn't change a thing, Sinbad was implacable. Instead he bit his lip, wanted more, wanted release so urgently he thought he'd explode--Sinbad's mouth left his cock again, and he _whined_ , desperate--

"Be beyond wanting. It will come. I promise you. It is what you feel in the meantime that's important right now."

Alibaba peeled his lip out of his teeth, looked down, took a moment to find his voice. "What...what should I feel?"

Sinbad smiled, keen and almost mischievous, pressed a soft kiss to the head of his cock. "Everything."

* * *

Writhing in undefended bliss, Alibaba barely even noticed the soft shift of fabric, the clink of brass on marble. The world was falling away--Sinbad's mouth on his cock, Sinbad's fingers snug round the base of his balls, the ache of restriction warring with sheer pleasure, it would drive him mad, it was glorious...

And then a single slick finger trailed down behind his balls, leaving him shivering. Nobody had ever touched him there before, not ever, his eyes flew wide, was he going to--yes, he was. Fingertip circling his asshole, tender, it was far more sensitive than he'd imagined, it left him a little breathless. "S-Sinbad..."

Sinbad had swallowed his cock to the root--he made some soft muffled noise in his throat, slowly teased just the very tip of his finger inside him. It went easily, gently, more gently than Alibaba could ever expect. Sinbad pulled very slowly off his cock, curled his finger gently inside him--strange pleasure shot through his body, he gasped, he squeezed his dagger and struggled to accept it, it was alien, he wasn't sure he wanted it to stop. "Do you want this?" he murmured--oh god, could he tell he'd never done this before, Alibaba could feel himself flushing intensely hot.

"I--it's--" Sinbad stroked his hip, soothing, slid his finger gently in and out, as if to show him what it might be like, it drove little noises out of him, it was-- "good--yes, I think it's good--"

"More?"

Alibaba took a feel shallow gulps of air, lost them in a moan as Sinbad slid his long finger deeper, an offer, an invitation. What would it be like, would it be too much, people said it was terrible most of the time but not always, and it felt--not terrible, not terrible at all. "Will it hurt?" he blurted, embarrassed the moment he asked.

"No." Sinbad smiled, shook his head, reached his other hand up to stroke Alibaba's chest affectionately. "It should never hurt when it's done right--if it does, we stop. Not the magic, I can finish that in other ways."

"Then." He panted a little. He felt dizzy with pleasure, he wanted--everything. "Yes."

Sinbad made a low, pleased noise, and slowly pulled his finger free, dragging it out as he watched him with very bright eyes as he squirmed. "Well, then..."

And he started tugging his tunic free. Alibaba felt his heart speed up, watched with a fluttering in his belly as Sinbad stripped the rest of the way, tan and lithe and muscular, dusky purple curls framing a very hard cock--gratifying, somehow, that he was so aroused, that he wanted this as much as Alibaba did. Watched still in anticipation as Sinbad poured more oil on his fingers, breath coming fast.

"Relax," Sinbad murmured, running a hand down his leg, shifting a little to curl closer, kissed the head of his cock again. "Be as you were. I'll make sure it feels good..." And his mouth closed over his cock again, hot and wet. Alibaba let his head fall back with a desperate moan--accept it, give his body over, Sinbad's finger slid inside him again, gently, deeper.

* * *

By the time three of his long, strong fingers were inside him, driving deep again and again, Sinbad had left his cock alone entirely. It would be too much, Alibaba thought distantly, he would come, he wouldn't be able to help it-- _this_ was too much, just in itself, he was thrashing on his hand, he could have screamed from it. It didn't hurt, it was done right, it was done _more_ than right--it was like no pleasure he'd ever felt, Sinbad couldn't possibly be planning to finish it like this, the thought of it almost terrified him, how could he even _feel_ that much at once, would he just fly apart--

"Alibaba," Sinbad said, and his hand hadn't stopped moving, he was giving him no mercy, Alibaba let out a ragged wordless cry, how was he supposed to _talk_. Sinbad was looking at him intently, his eyes were very bright. "You're afraid...?"

He made a strangled noise, met his gaze, almost angry--no, how could he have seen that, he wasn't supposed to see that. "N-no--" Voice stuttered by Sinbad's fingers, sliding home again.

Sinbad shifted, forehead touching his, kissing his face softly, tenderly. His hair slid off his shoulder, spread over Alibaba's arm, his hand still didn't slow down. Alibaba froze, breathless--he could smell him, suddenly intimate, waves of pleasure pounded his body, rolled over him, rocked him, built somewhere deep inside him. "Good," Sinbad whispered, carding fingers very gently through his hair. "Good. Don't let go. Take everything I give you. Good." Another soft kiss to his forehead, the tenderness almost more devastating than the pleasure. "It will be intense, when you finally come. Delayed this long, it is inevitable. But it will come when you're ready. I told you to be beyond want...now you see that you should also be beyond fear. Beyond all anticipation. Just hold on, and accept it." His voice was soft, almost hypnotic. Something eased inside Alibaba; his skin tingled, he breathed, accepting, his rucked up legs spasmed as Sinbad twisted his wrist.

"...yes..."

"But for the moment," he said, voice softer, trailing fingers down Alibaba's cheek, the hollows of his throat. "Slower, now, for the moment." And slower, slower, he twisted his fingers inside him, as if testing, as deep as he could reach, and Alibaba arched off the mattress with a long yearning moan. "Are you ready?"

Ready--god, he was going to be inside him-- "Yes... _please_..."

Sinbad made some low noise in the back of his throat, and slowly pulled his hand free, leaving Alibaba hollow and panting. Stroked his quivering thigh as he reached for more oil and slicked himself, and Alibaba couldn't help but watch, floating somewhere beyond want, entranced by the flick of his wrist, the curl of his long fingers.

"I want you closer," Sinbad murmured, and wiped his hand casually on the edge of some sheet, and reached for him, slid hands under him, and close to bodily picked him up. Alibaba floundered, nerveless with sensation, both hands still gripping his dagger over his head. Sinbad guided him, rearranged him, folded his arms with his dagger in the small of his back--still held in both, still as if bound, but he was beyond noticing. He was folded against Sinbad's chest, straddling him, limp and steadied in strong arms, feet curling in thin air behind Sinbad's back. His face fell in the crook of his neck, he smelled rich and strange; his earring burned against Alibaba's temple, heated by his body, his skin was warm against his. He could feel him breathe, feel his body shift, feel his ample cock hot and hard and slick beneath him.

Sinbad turned his head to nuzzle his hair, breathing deep. Alibaba flushed at the sheer intimacy of it, buried his face in Sinbad's throat and closed his eyes in surrender, and Sinbad rearranged him just a little, easily. Thick velvety heat nudging his ass, and Alibaba made a ragged little noise. This much control, Sinbad was giving him this much. All he had to do was relax more, sink down, let the weight of his body finish it...

He sank. Shuddered, a low hoarse groan forced out of him, a gasp of sheer surprise--fingers hadn't prepared him for this, not entirely, it was wrenching, it made his legs quiver, it was stunning, glorious. Almost too much. His legs tightened, he fought for purchase for a moment, for more control--it only drove Sinbad deeper inside him, _moved_ him inside him, and Sinbad let out a low needy noise and clutched him close. He _liked_ this--the thought was distant, wonderful, Alibaba was too much of a wreck to do anything about it, but he was pleasing Sinbad, pleasuring him, it was good, if things were different he would have writhed upon him shamelessly just to hear that noise again--

There was a tug at his throat, and his eyes flew wide by reflex, and Sinbad had the trailing end of his scarf wrapped around one hand like a leash and was reeling him close to kiss him. A kiss he couldn't escape, didn't expect, always wanted--he could taste musk and sweet oil, he moaned muffled and yearning, Sinbad shifted the both of them easy and subtle to slide out of him just a little, slide back in, and the garbled noises that forced out of him disappeared into the kiss.

The sheath of his dagger all but burned in his hands. His magoi, his magoi--no, it was there. Some core of sensation deep inside him, that he'd begun to feel as he finally let go--it was there, it was there, his body floated around it as Sinbad rocked him gently back and forth, easy as a doll, fucking him lazily, kissing him hungrily. The long slow tease was over, it seemed like it almost didn't matter what happened now. His legs trembled helplessly with sensation, it was so intense, like Sinbad's cock was unlatching something deep inside him, something that turned him to jelly--he might have been screaming, he might have been thrashing, but instead he accepted it, all that intensity was going somewhere else, his very _mind_ was somewhere else, he was a vessel...

He wasn't sure when he'd been moved, or how. Sheets and mattress against his back. He clutched his dagger over his heart, hands crushed between their chests. A hand on his thigh held his knee to his ear, he was folded in half. Sinbad was fucking him in earnest, driving deep, mantled over him and blocking out the world, cheek to cheek with his earring in the way, fingers tight on his shoulder. The force of it rocked him, drove him deep into the bed. Every stroke hit some nerve deep inside him that made him cry out and tremble, it ruined him, it was transcendent...

"Hold on to what's inside you, Alibaba," Sinbad murmured, breath hot against his cheek. His voice was low, hoarse, thick with pleasure, the sound of it made Alibaba take a sudden ragged breath. "Hold on. You're doing so well..."

He opened his eyes, met golden ones half-lidded with lust. Struggled for air, for words. "...yes..."

Sinbad kissed him, slow and lazy, pushed himself up a little, rested a hand over both of Alibaba's for a moment. Took his scarf in one hand, possessive, rested the other on his belly as he readjusted, started fucking him again. Alibaba shuddered, accepting it; he was raw, he was aching, his cock felt heavy fit to burst, it was wonderful. Sinbad looked glorious, faint sheen of sweat on him, flushed, a smile tugging at his mouth--pride, satisfaction. Lost as he groaned, like even he was starting to lose control. His hand moved--

\--closed around Alibaba's cock. Barely moving, coaxing, as if feeling out some delicate, evasive necessity that only he understood. Alibaba's hips canted, he moaned, his whole body shuddered with a rush of pleasure.

"I'm--close--"

"I know," Sinbad murmured. "Just--hold on, to what you need to. I've got you--"

His voice broke off in a ragged moan. Hunching a little, breath coming short, hair sliding tangled over his shoulder--he braced himself on his fist in the mattress, red rope wrapped round his hand, holding Alibaba snug--

\--he came, with a few desperate jerks of his hips, driving himself deep inside Alibaba. His face unguarded, his body writhing for a moment, Alibaba couldn't take his eyes off him--the rush of heat inside him made him gasp--

\--and even as Sinbad's orgasm faded, his hand sped up, long coaxing strokes. Alibaba trembled, cried out with pleasure, all but sang--a few brief soaring moments, Sinbad hadn't softened yet, he was still inside him--hold on, Sinbad didn't even need to say it, he was holding on and it was glorious, some strange separation where Sinbad drew his orgasm out of him and something still remained--

"Now, Alibaba. Come for me."

Their gazes were locked. His eyes were very bright, his voice absolute, Alibaba's body entirely in his hands--it rushed upon him sudden and bodily, he convulsed, he all but screamed, it seemed to last far, far too long--it had never been this intense before, it engulfed him, for a moment the world was gone and there was nothing but white-hot wrenching pleasure--

He lay stunned, breathless, he knew not for how long. His hands had clenched his dagger so tight they were white-knuckled knots; now, even they lay limp.

Sinbad's hand carded gently through his hair, as if calling him back. "Alibaba..."

He whimpered faintly, grasped for words. He felt like he'd been wrung dry, he was dizzy from the intensity of it. His scarf seemed a burning band in Sinbad's hand, his body a trembling exhausted scrap, and his magoi--

"There," Sinbad murmured, resting a hand on his belly, just above his spent cock. "I can feel it burning in you--can't you?"

"Yes," Alibaba breathed, voice faint and eyes wide. "Yes, I...can feel it..."

"Good." The backs of Sinbad's fingers brushing lightly down his cheek, affection to go with the praise, and color rushed to his face along with sheer, almost watery joy. "You did well." The magoi pulsed in him, he adored him in that moment, he would have gone to the ends of the earth for him.

"...thank you." He curled his hands, finally peeled one off the sweat-slick metal, rested it uncertainly on Sinbad's arm. Now that it was over, it hit him in a rush-- _Sinbad_ , he'd idolized the man, and now all this at once... "Thank you."

Sinbad leaned in to kiss him, brief, tender. "My pleasure." And laughed softly. "As you might have noticed."

* * *

Sinbad washed his hands in a basin, piled anything overly soiled in a corner, didn't bother to get dressed again. The moon had risen; Alibaba lay, still with one hand on his dagger, too wrung out to move. Almost dozing, watching Sinbad's tall moonlit figure move quietly about the room.

He sat, when he was done, setting a cup of water for each of them on the table, and slid a hand down his chest. "Mm, one more thing." He carefully gathered the cooling seed on Alibaba's belly onto his fingers. "You lose a little, when you ejaculate--if you have a chance, take it back. They call it a superstition in some countries, but I've found it helps..."

Alibaba blinked at him, blinked at the hand he was bringing to his mouth, and sputtered with a sudden burning flush. "You mean--? That's dirty!" He blurted it before even thinking about it, and then buried his face in one hand--what had he even been _doing_ for the past however long--

Sinbad blinked back, looking faintly amused. "You mean you've never tasted it?" Said as if any man would, just out of sheer curiosity.

"No--that would be _weird_."

A slight pause, then, "Hardly tastes weird to me."

Alibaba squawked, peeled his hand off his face, opened his mouth, closed it, and grabbed Sinbad's wrist. It tasted thick, bitter, he determinedly sucked it off anyway. Sinbad made a faint noise, perhaps surprised, traced his thumb across Alibaba's cheek as he cleaned his hand.

He rather wanted to say that it _was_ weird. Instead, "what about you?"

"Oh, I can accept losses sometimes, the pleasure was worth it. The Kou would call it a gift, they have a lot of attachment to their seed." He shrugged, reached for the cups of water, handed one to him; flustered still, Alibaba inched up amongst pillows so he could drink. It was honeyed, sweet, washed away the taste. "If you had the skills to process it, I would have given you some of my magoi--that would be a proper gift. It can be done, in such an act. It's not like I have much use for it right now.

Alibaba felt his eyes widening. "You'd really..."

Sinbad met his eyes over the rim of his cup; for a moment, his gaze seemed oddly opaque. "Yes. If it was possible."

"Maybe I can learn..." Alibaba caught himself, buried his face in his cup to take a drink, felt silly. Such presumption--that this would ever happen again, that he even _could_ learn whatever was needed, that Sinbad would have magoi to spare once he got his own vessels back...

"Maybe," Sinbad said lightly, and drained his cup. Alibaba sipped slowly, pulled his knees up to his chest. "You're talented," he added after a time. "If you had a chance to fully learn magoi manipulation, I think you'd take to it well."

Alibaba couldn't help the smile. "Thanks." He shook himself a little. "For everything. This was--you've been--"

"You're welcome," Sinbad said, smiling too.

* * *

"You never," Alibaba murmured eventually, and reached for the white cotton ribbon that tightly bound Sinbad's hair.

"It would just get in the way," Sinbad said lightly, but didn't bat him away. Slowly, slowly he teased it free, and coarse dark hair slid loose, spidered over Sinbad's back like a curtain. Alibaba didn't quite reach to touch it, almost wanted to for no particular reason he could name. Sinbad stretched, yawned. Reached out as if in answer to undo the knot that held Alibaba's scarf, and Alibaba flushed as he touched it, he couldn't quite help it, not with how he'd held onto it as he'd--fucked him. Sinbad had fucked him. Sinbad was coiling red braid in his palm and leaning in to nuzzle his hair.

"Do you want to go back to your room?" he asked.

Alibaba opened his mouth, closed it, reached slowly down to touch his thigh as if to make sure his legs hadn't _actually_ turned to jelly. "I'm not sure I can walk."

"Mm." Sinbad sprawled back amongst the pillows, relaxed and glowing, snaked out an arm for him. Certainly didn't seem displeased. "That's fine."

Alibaba inched closer, tugged gently along, curled up. Bare skin on bare skin felt so unexpectedly wonderful; he found himself wrapping a leg around Sinbad's just to be closer, basked in some deep primal contentment as Sinbad's arm slid around his back and held him close. His head rested on his shoulder, he could hear his heart beating, _feel_ a low faint noise of satisfaction, as if the King was a purring cat.

He lay there, unexpected bliss. The long day blurred behind him, one surprise after another. The sorts of surprises that always set him reeling--the kind where things got better against all expectation. Sinbad's breathing slowed, comfortable, he stroked Alibaba's arm absentmindedly.

"...do you think I can do it?" Alibaba blurted, small and sudden, into his shoulder.

Sinbad trailed his hand up his arm, hummed softly.

"Save Balbadd, I mean," he added, rather weakly.

"I'm here," Sinbad murmured. "I wouldn't be if I didn't." Alibaba's heart clenched, leapt. Sinbad's hand settled in his hair, affectionate. "Go to sleep."


End file.
